his son had come
with a delegation from the county town, twenty miles away, to represent
his interests. On Mr. William Belden devolved the task of introducing
the visitors; a most congenial one, he suddenly found it to be.

His friends rallied around him as people are apt to do with one of their
own kind when found in a foreign country. They called him Will, as they
used to, and slapped him on the shoulder in affectionate abandon. Those
among the group who had not known him before were anxious to claim
acquaintance on the strength of his fame, which, it seemed, still
survived him in his native town. It must not be supposed that he had not
seen either his cousin or his friends during his sojourn away from them;
on the contrary, he had met them once or so in two or three years, in
the street, or on the ferry-boat--though they travelled by different
roads--but he had then been but a passing interest in the midst of
pressing business. To-night he was the only one of their kind in a
strange place---his cousin loved him, they all loved him. The expedition
had the sentiment of a frolic under the severer political aspect.

In the welcome to the visitors by the home committee Mr. Belden also
received his part, in their surprised recognition of him, almost
amounting to a discovery.

"We had no idea that you were a nephew of Judge Belden," one of them
said to him, speaking for his colleagues, who stood near.

Mr. William Belden bowed, and smiled; as a gentleman, and a rather
reticent one, it had never occurred to him to parade his family
connections. His smile might mean anything. It made the good
committeeman, who was rich and full of power, feel a little
uncomfortable, as he tried to cover his embarrassment with effusive
cordiality. In the background stood Mr. Groper, wet, and breathing hard,
but plainly full of admiration for his tall friend, and the position he
held as the centre of the group. The visitors referred all arrangements
to him.

At last they filed on to the platform--the two cousins together.

"You must find a place for the girls," said Henry Belden, with the
peculiar boyish giggle that his cousin remembered so well. "By George,
they _would_ come; couldn't keep 'em at home, after they once got
Jim Shore to say it was all right. Of course, Marie Wakeman started it;
she said she was bound to go to a political meeting and sit on the
platform; arguing wasn't a bit of use. When she got Clara on her side I
knew th